


Make Little of Others

by hanjizoes



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Anger Management, CBT, Group Therapy, M/M, Triggers, just a lot of anger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-05 19:00:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1828831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanjizoes/pseuds/hanjizoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometime between the uncontrollable anger and the sudden decrease in the people in his life, Eren Jaeger knew he needed help, and he needed it now. His lack of control could land him in all sorts of places but instead he got sent to anger management. There's Jean Kirschtein there; he's different, new, someone who doesn't know him, and this time Eren is determined not to screw it up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Triggers

**Author's Note:**

> HELLOOO!! I haven't written anything in such a long time and I feel like I'm kind of rusty but I'm pretty determined to finish this fanfic. This is probably going to be around 10 chapters or so but it really depends on the story and how it progresses. The research I did for this fic has taught me a lot and I've managed to incorporate that in this chapter (and more will come) but yeah I hope it just gives people a little insight on anger and mental instability. It's pretty serious stuff but I hope you guys enjoy it.

I lost my parents years ago, somewhere between the lines linking the maps of my adolescence and my fading childhood, they were gone. I lost Mikasa somewhere in the months that passed and I’m trying to find her but she doesn’t want to be found. I still have Armin, my best friend, but he’s hanging by a thin thread and I think if I push too hard I might lose him too. I’ve lost and lost and lost so many things, people, objects, prized possessions but I think somewhere along the way I even lost myself. 

 

Eren Jaeger seizes to exist the minute he lets the anger take control. I’m actually admitting that I need help, I’m not going to stick around being in denial about it, I dealt with that stage when I was going through the grief over the whole dead parents thing. Denial is lost on me, so is sadness, I don’t think I possess any other emotion than the one that landed me in this hellhole. Sure, I call it a hellhole, because that’s what it is. Imagine having to sit in a circle with people just as angry as you are, maybe even more, and all they do is rage. It doesn’t really help the whole “management” part of anger management, it actually just makes the process that more harder to get through. 

 

That’s the thing about having major anger issues. When you get angry you don’t feel it at first. It starts out like this numbness, your fingers, lips, tongue, all your organs are just stuck in place, and then it’s like taking a really hot shower, the kind where the water scolds your skin. You’re bathing in this heat and as every inch of you realizes that this heat is probably going to burn right to your skull you do it anyway. Controlling it is pointless because the rage is strong enough to surpass any conscience thought you might’ve had. You can scream in pillows until your throat bleeds, or punch the walls until your knuckles are absolutely ripped, or you can take the route I take; take it out on other people. 

 

There are different types of anger. There’s the anger you hide, the anger you refuse to acknowledge, the anger you use for intimidation and even the anger you think has some sort of moral value. I sort of have a mix between impulsive and habitual anger. I guess with the weeks I’ve spent in this stupid group therapy I’ve finally pinpointed the name for it. I wish I’d realized what it was called sooner, maybe I could’ve worked on it sooner, maybe Mikasa would still be here and not somewhere I can’t find her. 

 

I’ve been going to anger management for the past 3 weeks, almost every day, for a duration of 1-2 hours. There’s 8 of us there. Eight angry, helpless and slightly deranged people sitting down on decaying plastic chairs listening to a therapist trying to talk us through something we probably already know. I don’t necessarily hate going there, it’s a nice distraction from my house, my empty, forever silent house. Probably the reason why Armin even suggested me going there in the first place. There was an incident once, one that made Mikasa leave, one that even made Armin almost leave, and it’s that one thing that happened that I hold on to every time I feel like that hellhole is slowly going to eat away at my brain.

 

I sit my ass down on an empty chair, my eyes flittering around the people in the room, their tiny habits, the things their doing without even noticing it. Ymir is grinding her teeth, I could practically hear her from all the way across the room. About three of the people here are rubbing their faces like they might wipe away whatever state of mind they’re in right now. I’ve tried doing that, the face-rub thing, it doesn’t really work. It’s an incentive to more uncontrollable rage, I don’t know why they’re doing it. I notice Connie rocking back and forth on his chair, slowly, like he doesn’t know he’s doing it. I don’t think he knows he’s doing it. I continue to look around the circle until I’m interrupted by the door slamming open so hard it hits the wall and possibly leaving a dent that was already there. Door-slamming is a normal thing. A guy walks in, he’s new here, I can tell it’s his first session by the way he feels the need to make his rage more evident than it already is. He has a cast on his left arm and by the way he lets it carelessly move around it’s probably not the first time he’s broken it. His hair is a brown mess on the top of his head, his eyes worn out and moving violently from side to side like he doesn’t know where he should be looking. He finds himself an empty chair and plops down, making some sort of dismissive statement. 

 

“Hey! New kid! Don’t need to barge in so loudly no one gives a flipping fuck–” Reiner starts.

 

“Shut the fuck up Reiner, stop making a scene,” I blurt out, giving him a glare. 

 

“You–” 

 

Before he can speak up the psychologist walks in. Erwin Smith. He holds his head up high, a slight smile on his face, his buff physique fit for this place. I’m not sure where my opinions stand on this guy. He sits down between me and Reiner and that shuts us up real quick. 

 

“Well good afternoon everyone. I assume you’re all here so let’s start.”

 

“There’s some new guy here,” I mumble at him, not sure if he heard me or not.

 

“I know that Mr Jaeger,” he retorts, not even bothering to look at me. It pisses me off. The ignoring. I’m obviously sitting right next to you, there’s no need for you to act as if I’m just a fleck of dust in the goddamn air. I dig my nails in my palms, hard enough to create half moon scars when my anger finally fades. 

 

“Now,” Erwin starts. “It seems like we have a new addition to our lovely group. Stand up and introduce yourself. Your name and why you’re here.”

 

The guy stands up, he hunches down a bit and then stands up straight, looking Erwin straight in the eye. 

 

“Jean Kirschtein. I’m here because my parents think I’m really angry and maybe I am I don’t know.” He sits back down and refuses to look at Erwin again, at any of us really. 

 

“Very informative, Jean. I look forward to your grand speeches in the future,” Erwin says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Another one of his traits that instantly pisses me off. The skin of my palm is now a platform of destruction, full of deep inflicted wounds, all for the sake of calming myself down. 

 

“I wanted to talk to you guys today about triggers.”

 

And then he starts. He talks on and on about it and he’s talked about triggers before and it’s not like we’re misinformed about them but he just likes to add in a little something extra. 

 

“Each an everyone of you has a trigger, a sort of switch that activates your anger. Now most of you might already know your triggers, your weaknesses, the things that ultimately make you lose your self control. Others might be in the dark. You don’t know why you’re angry, you’re lost, confused, probably pretty oblivious you even have a trigger at all.”

 

I don’t know what my trigger is. But I don’t tell him that as he goes around asking us what they are, like it’s show and tell. I just tell him something random like “having no parents” and then he moves on. It sounds pretty logical. It might even be true. I don’t know, I just don’t want to talk. Erwin moves on to Jean, who shakes his head, and tells him he doesn’t know what his trigger is. I almost laugh in his face, the lie is moving around him like a bad smell, I’m pretty sure Reiner who’s a total buffoon, realized Kirschtein was faking it. I ignored him, there wasn’t any point in being interested in this guy, he seemed like a lost cause. 

 

The hours flew by quicker than usual, before Erwin could move on to how we could deal with these triggers, everyone was starting to leave. I normally waited until I was the last one sitting down for me to get out of there. I walked slowly out of the room and almost bumped into Erwin who looked like he was giving the new guy a very intense pep talk. 

 

“You have the option of having one-on-one sessions with another therapist or group sessions with me and the other people that come in here. The purpose of this is to channel your anger and use it for something not so destructive. From the cast and bruises I see I’m sure you’re the impulsive type. Please try to cooperate next time. I know it’s your first session but everyone in there is the same as you so try to remember that.” Then he turns around and walks away, giving me a weird look as he brushes by me and makes his way down the hall. 

 

It takes me a while to notice Jean, who’s glaring at me like I just eavesdropped on such an important and extremely private conversation. 

 

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” he sneers. 

 

“Excuse me?” I snarl back, what the hell was this guy’s problem? But before I can even bother lashing at him I feel someone drape their arm around my shoulders, pulling me towards their body, and partially dragging me away from a potential fight. 

 

“What took you so long?” Armin says, grinning at me, his blue eyes gleaming. 

 

I try to smile back, but it probably looks like a grimace more than a grin, “You know you don’t have to come inside to pick me up. You don’t really have to pick me up at all really.”

 

He steers me outside as we make our way to his car, putting his arm back to his side. Armin does a lot for me, and most of it, I don’t really deserve. “What do you mean I don’t have to pick you up? You really expect me to let you walk all the way back home? You really are delusional Eren.” He lets out a laugh that sets my mind at ease. We climb into his car that smells a lot like bad lemons and expired air freshener. Then, it’s really quiet. It’s quiet for awhile. I expect Armin to talk, to ask about my session, to ramble on about anything really but he doesn’t. The silence is deadly and defeating, I want to hear voices, anyone’s voice, any noise but the sound of the car’s rattling engine. 

 

“So, how’s school going?” I ask Armin. If I took him by surprise he certainly doesn’t show it, he just smiles at me.

 

“Well we’ve got a shitload of work to do by the end of this year and they’re just piling last minute projects on us like we have nothing better to do. Of course you’re going to have to do them during the summer if you want to pass this year but–”

 

“I get that I have a lot of shit to do Armin, you don’t have to keep _reminding_ me.” 

 

Armin flinches back, my voice thunders around us, shaking the windows. I probably took it too far, but I’m not sure. 

 

“You said that anger management group was helping you, that you were learning something there... How-how is it any different than you were 2 weeks ago or 2 days ago for that matter?” Armin says, with a voice laced with so much exhaustion. “You asked me about school. I’m answering your question. You don’t have to be so angry about it.”

 

Then I’m terrified. There’s one other emotion I possess other than anger and that’s fear. I suddenly realize that I might’ve snapped the thread holding Armin and I together the one that motivates him to stick around when I’m sure he knows I’m hopeless. I turn around and look at him, his eyes are on the road, but I can tell he’s restless. Apparently I can read everyone’s emotions but my own. I want to apologize, to tell him I didn’t mean it, that I’m working on it as hard as I can. But he’s distracted and the words are stuck in the depths of my throat, trying it’s hardest to come out, but all that winds up coming out is an unidentifiable noise. 

 

“What is it now?” Armin breathes out. “Do you want to come over or should I take you home?” 

 

“Just take me home,” I find myself saying. No, I don’t want to go home. There’s nothing for me there. But I go anyway. Armin drops me off and leaves without a word and it takes every inch of resolve I have left not to chase after him to tell him that I didn’t mean it. But it’s too late. He’s already winding down the road, disappearing from my reach. 

 

I stare at the front door of my house. It’s a big oak door that sends a pang right through me, it’s beckoning me to unlock it, to step inside, to be enveloped in the dust that accompanies this treacherous place. I take a step forward, my legs suddenly feel like they’re made of lead, and it takes all the energy I have to step another inch closer. I’m about to open the door when I hear a noise from the inside and without even thinking twice I barge in. 

 

“Mikasa?” I yell. “Mikasa! Is that you?” 

 

I’m running frantically around the house, from the kitchen, to the living room, to Mikasa’s empty room that hasn’t changed for the past 6 months, and then to the basement. But there’s no one here. It was probably just a rat or a raccoon. I don’t know if we get raccoons here but it doesn’t matter. Whatever it was it wasn’t Mikasa. I try not to feel too disappointed but I can’t seem to help it. There’s an ache in my chest that I can’t decipher and it unleashes the anger. I move towards the kitchen grabbing plates and slamming them against the wall. After 2 minutes there are shards of glass everywhere and my hands are cut deep and there’s blood spilling out of my fingers. I heave in and out, clenching a piece of glass in my hands that adds to the damage I’ve already done in my palms, and then I look at the wreckage. 

 

In a matter of minutes I’ve managed to destroy almost every breakable kitchen appliance left in my house. There’s nothing left but a couple of mugs and whatever is left of my sanity that I didn’t already destroy along with everything else. I stare at my hands, inspecting the wounds, I’ve had ones before and these definitely need stitches. Well, fuck. 

 

I call up a taxi, I can’t tell Armin about this, I’ve already done enough damage for one day. I leave the house without looking back at the mess I made on the kitchen floor and tell the taxi to take me to the emergency room. I’ve wrapped a towel around my hand but the blood is still seeping through. I pay the taxi with whatever money I have left in my pocket and run to the entrance, the pain getting worse by the second. The nurse behind the desk takes one look at me and rolls her eyes. 

 

“The doctor is busy today, I’ll have to do your stitches,” she grumbles. Let’s just say I’ve been here more than once. 

 

“I don’t care who does it, just get it over with.”

 

The nurse takes me to a room in the back and takes a look at my hands. Turns out there’s pieces of glass inside my skin. Great. She takes them out as carefully as she can, I yell at her to be careful, she ignores me. 

 

“So, what did you do this time? Jump through a window? Thrown out of a window? Oh let me guess, the window just happened to break on your hand.”

 

“Why do you give a fuck? Just do your job and stop acting like you care.”

 

That shuts her up and she goes back to picking out the pieces of glass, delicately throwing them in the garbage, and then she starts stitching up my hand. It hurts at first but then I remember that I’ve been through this almost a dozen times. A dozen times. I let out a sigh. I’m getting pretty sick of myself. 

 

“We’re all done. Now don’t go and punching anymore windows Eren, there’s not enough stitches in the world for you,” the nurse says, grinning. She bandages my hand and then I leave. I could’ve thanked her but I didn’t. 

 

“What do you mean I can’t get this stupid cast off for another week? The doctor said 2 weeks. It’s been 2 fucking weeks already,” I heard someone shout from behind the curtain. His voice sounded vaguely familiar. “How the hell am I supposed to work with this thing?” 

 

The nurse has a soft gentle voice, she’s telling him to calm down, that his arm hasn’t healed yet. Bad idea. 

 

“Calm down? You want me to calm down? I’ll show you how I’ll calm down.” 

 

But before whoever’s behind that curtain can add more insult to injury I stride on over and rip the curtain open. Behind it is Jean Kirschtein and his face is a red mask of fury. Without even thinking about it I grab his arm, the one that isn’t wrapped in a cast, and drag him away from the nurse. She looks horrified, her eyes bulging out of her head and her hands are shaking. 

 

“I’ll let this guy out of your hair,” I tell her as I drag Jean out of the hospital. I’m surprised he’s not resisting. I’m even more surprised that he hasn’t bashed my head in yet. He seems like the type. As soon as we get out he flings my hand away and I turn around to face him. 

 

“If you want that cast off I suggest you avoid fighting with the nurses,” I tell him. He’s fuming. Literally. 

 

“Who the fuck asked you for help?” he barks at me, he sounds like a wild animal. 

 

“Whatever. You don’t have to thank me or anything.” I walk away from him because he’s definitely not worth me reopening my stitches. 

 

“Hold up. You’re in that anger management thing right? How long do you stay in that hellhole?”

I stop in my tracks, “Depends on you shit face. Do you think I’m Erwin Smith or something? Look. You want to get out of there? You just have to accept you’re in there and deal with it. There’s no use pouting about it. Some of the people there have been stuck in group sessions for months let alone weeks.”

 

“God, you’re such a pain in the ass,” he mumbles. 

 

“What’d you just say?” 

 

There it is. The trigger. Okay, not the main trigger. One of them. The heat starts in my toes and works up to my stomach and it’s like being repeatedly punched in the abdomen. Then my ears flame red, my face is burning, my head is pounding and for one second I think I’ve gotten control and I’m sure that this won’t blow up in my face. But the anger is taking over. All I see is a flash of red in front of me and the subtle hints of Jean’s face in the background. 

 

“I said, thanks. Do you want me to spell it out for you?” he snaps. The red fades and everything comes into focus. Am I imagining things now? Great.

 

I walk away from him, staggering a bit, almost falling flat on my face. Someone catches a hold of my arm and helps me stand still. 

 

“Woah, you okay?” Jean says, his voice seems distance. I push him away, my bandaged hand digging into his chest, and I hold back a wince of pain. 

 

“I’m fine.” And then I’m walking away. Jean says something behind me but I ignore him. My only thought is that I need to go to Armin, or Mikasa, or anyone. Mikasa isn’t here, I remind myself. But I need company. Or I need to be by myself. 

 

Erwin talked about triggers, about how they were like switches that controlled our anger. Triggers could do anything to us, they could probably make us lose our goddamn minds for all I know. But the thing is, I don’t know what my trigger is. It could be anything, a simple word, a tiny action, and I’ll instantly lose it. Suddenly I want to go back to group therapy, I want to know how I can control this, and maybe when I do Mikasa will come back. Maybe Armin knows where she is, he could tell her I’m doing better. That I’m controlling this. But that’s just it. I’m not controlling it. 

 

How the hell do I control this. 

 

I walk back home, a million thoughts running through my head, of Mikasa, of Armin, even Jean. That Kirschtein guy is a mystery to me. I’ve only met him today and he’s already got me on edge.  

 

I stand outside my house, it’s looking more haunted by the minute, and I hate the affect it has on me. I spend the rest of the afternoon cleaning up the kitchen until I’m sure it’s spotless. Then I walk around the house, moving from room to room, inhaling the scent each of them contains. Mikasa’s room is sealed shut, I sit down next to the door, hoping to hear a sound. Maybe she came back, maybe she’s in there. But the only sound I hear are my raspy breaths, inhaling exhaling, in and out, out and in. 

 

When I lost my parents, I had Mikasa. When I lost Mikasa, I had Armin. I might be losing Armin too, and then I’ll have nobody. No one. They say a side effect to anger is depression, or maybe even worse. I don’t want to get to that point, I need to avoid that point as much as possible. 

 

“Come back,” I whisper to Mikasa, not that she can hear me, not that she’s even there. And I fall asleep right there on the floor, my head nestling next to the door, and I dream of triggers. The real ones. Shooting at my insides. And Mikasa’s holding the gun, she’s whispering something in my ear, but all I can feel is the flame that’s igniting inside my stomach and I wonder when I’ll control it. 


	2. Bad cologne and french fries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well sorry this took so long. I haven't been feeling all that great lately but I guess I had to eventually post this. I get kind of sloppy with the writing in the middle I'm sorry if it sounds like I got lazy cause I probably did. But I'm determined to finish this fic there's a lot I want to say. P.S: the title for the fic is actually a song by ft island, I kind of stole it but the song is great (listen to it !!!! they're really good !!!!!)

The room, was extremely, and unbearably cold. Everyone seemed to have their hands tucked under their arms or in the crook between their calves and thighs, trying to spread as much body heat as they possibly could. Only a few smug faces stood out, giving everyone sadistic smiles and provoking looks. 

 

“Turn off the fucking air conditioning,” I snapped at whoever would listen. 

 

“Why’s it bothering you Jaeger? It’s perfectly fine,” someone said. I swallowed back whatever I was going to say. I did not want to pick up another fight with Reiner, who was starting to make his way to the top of my list of douche bags. When he realized I wasn’t going to talk back he decided to open his stupid mouth again. “What’s wrong Eren? Can’t be bothered to talk? Didn’t know you were so weak.” 

 

The next few minutes flashed by like a movie on fast forward. My chair was on the floor, my hands were around Reiner’s thick neck, his back against the wall right next to the air conditioner’s switch. His eyes were bulging out of his skull, if I put any more pressure on his windpipe I was sure they were going to explode right out of his sockets. Reiner was making sickly animal noises, grunting and thrashing, he was trying to say something but all I could hear was a bell ringing in my eardrums. 

 

Get your hands off him. Step away. Don’t do this. This isn’t helping anyone. Get your hands off him. 

 

There were voices muffled in the background, someone was trying to pull me away, someone was trying to talk me through it. I think it sounded like Erwin. I wasn’t sure. All I could see was red over red and Reiner’s face protruding in the background. It might’ve been seconds but it felt longer than that, it felt like an eternity, like the years were flowing by, collapsing on top of each other. And in those years my bandaged hands, my thin aching fingers, were still wrapped tightly around Reiner’s neck. 

 

“Eren...” I heard someone say. His voice was the only one that stood out, like an odd note amidst a cacophony, the one note that seemed off amongst this orchestra of people that were vying to get me back on my feet. “Eren, back off.” 

 

My fingers loosened and then slowly my hands went back to my sides. The pain from the stitches was still there, and I could feel it more now than I did before I almost strangled Reiner to death. I turned around, only to see everyone staring at me, all gawky eyed. Their mouths open wide and the horror on their faces even shocked me. 

 

“Like you guys never lost your temper before,” I told them. “What do you think landed you guys here in the first place? Good behavior and gold stickers on your report card?” 

 

That made them back off and go back to their chairs, not even bothering to give me a second glance, not even once. A hand was on my shoulder, Erwin’s, and it had all the tense feelings I expected him to have. He was keeping his cool and maintaining whatever composure he had left but I knew he would’ve called the police on me if he had the chance. He directed me back to my chair, someone had fixed it upright, and I sat down without a word. 

 

“Well, that was... eventful. Now that everyone has calmed down a bit I’ll move on to our topic for today. Please try not to have a recap of this afternoon’s events I really don’t feel like calling the cops on you guys, it would defeat the whole purpose of you coming here.” Erwin gave everyone a look to make sure they all understood exactly what he meant, and a synchronized nod when around the circle, I even found myself nodding without thinking about it. 

 

Erwin did a quick recap of our last session. Triggers. What they were. How they worked. The same bullshit we heard a couple of days ago. While a couple of days ago I was all for learning how to deal with these triggers, I even remember having the insane urge to want to overcome them as soon as possible. The feeling wasn’t entirely gone but I was still buzzing from what had just happened-what the hell just happened? -that I didn’t really have the same motivation I did before. But I listened to Erwin nonetheless. 

 

“Now for the people who know what their triggers are it’s fairly easy for you guys to figure out when you should control yourself. The thing about anger is that you need a powerful distraction to overcome it, something, or maybe someone, to balance out the rage and find ways to just let it go.”

 

He went on and on, giving examples about what we should devote our time to. From boxing to going to the gym to running 2 hours every day. “A change in your lifestyle,” Erwin said, sounding like a motivational speaker more than a goddamn therapist, “could alter everything else that goes on in your life.” 

 

The motivational crap sounded like an act so I zoned out. It seemed that everyone wasn’t particularly interested in what Erwin had to say so we were all in a mind of our own, trapped in the endless bubbles of whatever our brains decided we should be thinking about. I glanced at Erwin every once in a while just to assure him that I was still being the attentive boy I was when I first came here. Then I went back to not paying attention. My eyes drifted elsewhere, to someone, if you wanted to be specific about it. Jean seemed to be the only one listening to Erwin and that caught my attention. 

 

He had his legs spread out and his elbows resting on his knees, his back hunched over so much I thought he was going to bend and break and fall to pieces. There was something about the way his eyes focused on one thing that amazed me. They were attentive, serene, blazing with something I couldn’t decipher. Jean giving all his undivided attention to the shit that was coming out of Erwin’s mouth. For a second there I was curious, about him, this Jean Kirschtein. 

 

I’d never seen him before, at least not anywhere around here. He was a total stranger in my eyes and I appreciated his lack of knowledge about me. You could tell he was different from the way he acted, the way he seemed to lose his cool but keep it together all at once. I’d only known him for 2 sessions but he was poking at my curiosity like a foreign object, probing it and pinching it and provoking everything inside me. 

 

Then for a single second I forgot what I was doing, that I was even staring. God, I was practically glaring at him. I only realized that my eyes were doing weird things when Jean faced me instead, his attention directed at me instead of Erwin. I scolded myself, what in the world do you think you’re doing, and went back to acting like I cared about the session. I could practically feel his eyes burning holes through my temples, he was probably imagining my inside splattered on the floor, he was probably wondering what the hell I was staring at him for. He was probably, and most definitely, thinking, that I was a total creep. And that was bothering me. 

 

Turns out what was coming out Erwin’s mouth was more important than I thought. It was the same information I had wanted to acquire since the minute I got here. But I wasn’t listening and the session ended with me feeling crappier than I did when it started. I ignored Jean, who seemed to be giving me the scariest look he could muster, and aimed to get out of the room as soon as possible. Partially to avoid any sort of interaction and–

 

“Eren. I’d like to talk to you.” 

 

That. 

 

There was two ways I could’ve handled the situation. Ignore it and pretend it wasn’t there, which never really worked in my favor, or turn around and face the problem, which also didn’t work in my favor. I hated the feeling bubbling up in my stomach, the heat pounding in my veins, the constant, never ending rage that was there even when it wasn’t necessary. 

 

I turned around and faced Erwin, gritting my teeth and clenching my fists. He seemed cool, calm and collected, nothing different than the usual, but he was annoyed. It seemed like my act of playing pretend hadn’t gone past him and the near death experience for Reiner, by yours truly, didn’t really make him the happiest guy on the planet. I ran through the list of possibilities this conversation could end in and the result only made me that more agitated, and suddenly very terrified. 

 

“Please come with me to my office, you can tell your friend outside that you’ll be a little late today,” Erwin said, referring to Armin. I didn’t even know if he was going to bother picking me up today, I hadn’t exactly talked to him in the past few days. 

 

I nodded at Erwin and then made my way to the entrance. Armin was standing by himself, his back leaning against the wall, his hands playing with the ends of his hair. Even from a distant I could tell he was tired, he didn’t really have the easiest life and I wasn’t really making it any easier for him. When he noticed me coming his way his expression lightened up a few notches and just as he was about to put his arm on my shoulder, a gesture we’d grown accustomed to, I pushed his arm away. 

 

“Are you still angry?” he asked, a slight irritation in his voice. 

 

I pushed back the anger making it’s way to my throat, “No, I.. I can’t be angry at you. Umm, it’s just... Something happened at the session today and the therapist wants to talk to me. A little one-on-one time I guess. He said we’ll be a while so I figure you can go home, get some rest while you’re at it.”

 

“What do you mean something happened at the session?” And for whatever reason Armin looked down at my hands, that were still bandaged up from the stitches. Before I knew it he was holding them up for me to see, as if I didn’t know they were there. “What the hell is this? Eren. What happened?”

 

I shoved my hands away, tucking them in the back pocket of my jeans, suddenly avoiding Armin’s gaze. “Nothing happened. I broke a plate at home, got some stitches, it’s all good. And Erwin doesn’t want to talk to me about that.” 

 

“What does he want to talk to you about then?”

 

“Jesus, Armin. Back off. You’re not obligated to ask me anything it’s not like you’re Mikasa or anything.”

 

He flinches back, I didn’t really pay attention to what I was saying, my line of vision is getting redder by the second. Way too red. What did I say? 

 

“No, I’m not Mikasa.” Oh. “But she’s not here and who the hell is going to take care of you? Look. Eren. Get your shit together. I’m leaving.” He practically storms out, drawing some attention, and before I can even think about it I’m turning around and walking away. There’s no need to fight with Armin. No need. 

 

***

 

Erwin’s office is bigger than I expected. There’s a lush leather couch that looks really comfortable, but it’s too big and it’s too close to his desk. Erwin’s sitting behind it, looking really serious and suddenly very intimidating. I decide to sit on the armchair that’s a safe distance away from him and gives me the space I desperately need. 

 

“Let’s just cut to the chase,” he starts. “First of all, you’re going to have to start paying attention to what I have to say during the sessions. The others might act like they don’t care but they do and you should to. I don’t know why you think it’s okay for you to carelessly dismiss whatever I have to say like it’s not going to benefit you but I hope you see the light soon. Don’t waste your valuable time.

 

“Second of all. What you did with Reiner today was not unheard of. It’s why you’re here in the first place, but nearly killing someone in anger management is not the way to go. I know you can’t control it, it’s not like I’m going to hand you a pamphlet and tell you to read up and get on with your life. Eren. I’m doing this because I care. Whatever generalization you have that shrinks are only out to get you needs to be removed from your head immediately or otherwise the entire process is going to be a total waste.

 

“Third of all, and finally; I think you need private sessions.”

 

The entire time he’s talking I nod to myself, and I actually listen, because what he’s saying could possibly patch things up with Armin. Or patch things up altogether. But the last point has me standing on the edge of my toes, my lips ready to say no to the idea. 

 

“Erwin–”

 

“I know what you’re going to say. But your case is getting more severe and this place is the only thing keeping you out of bigger trouble. If you start attacking every person attending the sessions there won’t be anyone left. You’ll still come to group therapy but a personal session with me is different, some of the other kids are doing it too, they just don’t draw attention to it. It’s merely a suggestion, but it’s one I really want you to think carefully over.”

 

I find myself nodding, mechanically, robotically, so synchronized I don’t even realize I’m doing it. It takes a while for the words to register in my brain, for my body to react, for the wheels in my mind to start turning. There’s nothing I want more than to slam the door on my way out of here and never even give Erwin a second glance. There’s a reason I don’t want private sessions, and it’s one that I really wanted to avoid.

 

“I’ll think about it.” Is all I tell him. 

 

“Before you go,” he starts to say as I make my way out, he starts to hand me something. A pamphlet. I almost laugh in his face. “I know what I said earlier. This is just what I discussed today, about learning to control your triggers. I’d appreciate it if you don’t throw it away the minute you get out of here. It might help you more than you think.” He flashes me a smile, one I don’t return, and I walk out. 

 

I stare at the pamphlet, all smiles and bad clipart images, bulky pieces of text and inspirational crap that almost makes me gag, but I fold it and tuck it in my pocket. There’s no reason for me not to read it. Is there?

 

When I get out of the building I realize I’m looking for Armin’s car. Which isn’t there. Damn, he must really be mad. I don’t blame him. What worries me is _when_ he left; did he wait and then get tired and leave or did he go immediately after our conversation? The only solid reason I can find for it bothering me is that I hope he didn’t drive his car while he was overly emotional. When my anger is directed at him he has a bad tendency to overreact and let his emotions take over. If he was waiting for me to finish it could’ve given him some time to cool down before he decided to leave. I’ve had a bad history of people getting hurt because they decided to drive their cars when they were either really upset or angry. I fall into the latter category. Which also explains why I don’t drive a car. 

 

It took awhile for it to hit me. That I was still expecting to see Armin’s car parked somewhere amidst the almost empty parking lot. But there was no sign of it. I squinted to see if I could find a blonde head behind the wheel but all the cars were vacant. I sighed heavily, thinking about the long walk I had ahead of me. Buses weren’t an option, I didn’t have the money. Taxis included. There was no one else I knew that would bother to take me home. I could probably use the exercise, I thought, until I heard someone’s voice next to me.

 

“Do you want a ride home?” the voice said. 

 

I jumped a little, surprised at the sudden interruption in silence, “Jesus, you scared me.” 

 

At this point I didn’t know who was talking. Between the time it took me to turn around and find out who the voice belonged to I was dead convinced it was Erwin, who might’ve magically flown from his office, his therapist senses tingling knowing I needed help. But no, I was wrong, and in his place was Jean Kirschtein. 

 

Jean had this empty look on his face, his hair was tousled and moving around at odd angles. Was this guy’s hair ever neat? He had a helmet placed under his arm that looked way too big for his head. 

 

“Ahem. I asked you a question.” He snapped me back to attention. 

 

“What makes you think I want a ride home?” I replied, rather lamely might I add. 

 

“Because you look like an abandoned puppy waiting for it’s owner. Also you’re pouting. It’s extremely unflattering.”

 

“Why do you care what makes me look unflattering?” I ask, I can’t help being smug about it. 

 

“Ummm... I.. just meant.. that,” he stutters. “How is this relevant? Do you want a ride or not?” 

 

I let the wheels turn in my head, not sure if I should take his offer or not. Who knows what could happen to me on the way? And judging from the helmet he was holding there was a definite lack in a car. I figured I could decline and be on my way. 

 

“Whatever, sure.” I found myself saying. Which irritated me more than I thought. There was nothing wrong with asking people for help but goddamn it I didn’t even know the guy and he was offering me a ride home. 

 

“Where do you live?” he asks. 

 

I scoff, “Like I’d tell you.” And then I realize how utterly and completely stupid I sound. 

 

“Actually you have to tell me. Unless you want to rot next to this building forever I suggest you stop provoking me to beat the shit out of you right here right now, Jaeger.”

 

“You really want to get this started Kirschtein because I have no fucking problem.”

 

I expected a punch, or at least a kick in the crotch. We were both going to anger management therapy and I’m pretty sure with his broken arm and my bandaged hands we were also both prone to violence. It could’ve gone that way and I would’ve gone home with a bloody nose and a black eye. But, to my complete surprise, it didn’t go that way at all.

 

“Just get on the fucking bike so I can take you home. You’re really starting to piss me off.” He mutters, “This is the last time I do anything nice.”

 

I decide to shut up and follow him to his bike. It’s no Harley Davidson but I had to admit it wasn’t that bad. Jean got on and scooted a bit in front making some room for me to sit in the back. And that’s when I finally figured out that I had to sit in the back of a motorcycle. With a guy I didn’t know. And there was a high chance I had to put my arms around him. Great.

 

“Well? What are you waiting for?” he sneers, as I hop on back, refusing to let my arms even get anywhere near the vicinity of his back or chest. 

 

I give him instructions to my house and without even a warning he starts the bike and we’re driving away. The sudden impact causes me to fall face forward on Jean’s back, my cheek rubbing against his jacket and my nose squishing at an incredibly awkward angle. 

 

_He smells like bad cologne and french fries._

 

What? Why the hell did I care about the way he smelled? This was getting weirder and weirder by the second. I pull back before it could get any weirder and shove my hands in my lap. Which isn’t as easy as it sounds. Riding a moving vehicle and not having your hands supporting any solid object is pretty freaking stupid but I was being stubborn and at this point I was maintaining my balance. For about five seconds. 

 

Jean took a hard right making me fling my arms around him on reflex, without even a second thought. I was sure I was going to suddenly slip off the motorbike and fall smack on the pavement my body a mess of tangled bones and scrambled organs. The mental image only made me cling a little tighter which would’ve bothered me a minute ago if I wasn’t paranoid out of my mind. I didn’t think Jean minded all that much since he was only focused on the road ahead of him paying absolutely no attention to me wrapping my arms around him like a koala. 

 

I closed my eyes. The ride was exhilarating, and oddly enough, very refreshing. I felt like every angry thought boiling in my mind was getting lost amidst the wind that rushed across my face. Mikasa would probably love a ride like this, she’d get caught up in the experience, letting her arms hang out of the vehicle like she was in Titanic or something. Bile rose in my throat, as it always did when I thought about her, completely ruining this very enlightening experience. By the time I opened my eyes I was almost home. I gave Jean more directions and in a few seconds he was stopping next to my house. The door looking more haunting than ever. 

 

“Nice house,” he said. I got off the bike my eyes still on the door, my mind a millions miles away. “Anyways...”

 

I turned around facing him, “Yeah, thanks for the ride. I guess.”

 

“Whatever. Bye,” and then he was off. 

 

I could’ve sworn I saw him blushing. 

 

When I get inside the house it looks exactly the same way it did when I left it. Empty. Deserted. And most of all, abandoned. Of course those words could’ve either applied to the house or me, or both. On instinct I checked the house, just in case anyone was there. I don’t know why I always got so disappointed when I realized there would never be anyone waiting for me when I got home. The more I thought about it the more upset I got and me getting upset only equaled to me getting angry. 

 

There were no more plates for me to break, only coffee mugs and pots that I didn’t use since I never ate anything but takeout. I was on the verge of a meltdown, one that I had a lot lately. This was becoming a regular thing and I was honestly getting sick of it. I was getting sick of my attitude, my incontrollable rage attacks, my random outbursts which were almost always directed at Armin. I really needed to talk to him. I start dialing his number and hoping he answers. One ring. Nothing. Two rings. Nothing. Three rings. And I’m about to turn it off and call again when he picks up.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Armin? Are you okay?”

 

“What? Yes, I’m fine. Eren what’s going on?”

 

“I’m sorry,” my voice starts to break and I compose myself before I do something stupid, like cry. “I just.. I wanted to apologize. Again. I do that a lot lately don’t I? I really do fuck up a lot.” The break in my voice is slowly receding. “No wonder Mikasa left,” I mutter, hoping he won’t hear. 

 

“Hey, Eren. I’m coming over. Just, don’t go anywhere, and please _don’t break anything.”_

 

“No,” I say, a bit too forcefully. “Don’t come over it’s fine, I’m fine, I just needed to make sure you were okay that you got home okay and...”

 

“I’m fine, Eren. Look, I think I should come over, keep you company? Why don’t I pick you up and we go get something to eat?” 

 

He was being sincere. And too nice. I didn’t deserve this and from the sound of his voice I didn’t really want to decline his offer. But I wasn’t about to make him feel bad for me, that was the last thing I needed right now. He needed a break from me, even I needed a break from me if that was ever possible. 

 

“Armin, really it’s not necessary. I think I’m just going to take a nap or something. I’m fine,” the lie slipped from my tongue so easily. The lying was becoming something I was accustomed to, it was a slipper I couldn’t take off and I wanted to desperately stop becoming so comfortable with it. 

 

“Alright. Call me if you need anything,” he said, I could feel his reluctance through the phone and even when we said our goodbyes I was finding myself inching to call him again. The company of someone, anyone, was what I wanted. But I didn’t trust myself at all. I made my way to my room, the heat that erupted inside me was creeping inside my skin, crawling against my spleen. My eye started to twitch. That didn’t really happen a lot. It rarely happened at all. 

 

I smacked my eye a bit, hoping the twitching would die down, but it didn’t. If anything it got worse. There was nothing I could do but ignore it but it wasn’t helping the rise in my body temperature. My body was on fire, my fingers tingling, and for a few seconds my vision was impaired. I got a sudden flashback to this sessions events, the sea of red that swarmed my eyes as I squeezed the breath out of Reiner.

 

God, I needed help. 

 

Maybe I needed to call Armin again. But what if I put my anger out on him? What if the minute he walks in I start beating the shit out of him until he’s unconscious? Who knows what I’ll do when I can’t even control myself. The pamphlet in my pocket suddenly weighed a thousand tons, I reached for it and flung it on the floor. 

 

Even as I changed my clothes I knew I had to read it sooner or later. I picked it up and unfolded it, smoothing the creases and trying to get past the extremely bad editing that went into making this. I skipped to the part that told me how to control my triggers, how to make use of the situation that flipped the switch of my anger and how to avoid experiencing the aftermath. 

 

I read on and on, sometimes going through the same thing twice, three times, even four. Until my eyes started to droop and slumber took over. The last thought lingering my brain was the heat in my body slowly dying down and the twitch in my eye disappearing, as if it never happened. 


End file.
